All's Well that Ends Well
by CarawynO
Summary: The story of how Éomund of Alburg wooed and won Théodwyn of Edoras, and the many stumbles and missteps they took along the way.


June 1, 2087

Théodwyn shifted her shoulders as Léofwyn laced up her gown, causing her sister to pause in her work with a chuckle. "I cannot do this properly if you can not stand still!"

With a nervous laugh, Théodwyn reached up and adjusted the neckline of the gown by a fraction. "I am not used to a neckline like this! It feels…" She looked over towards the chest that held her clothes. "Perhaps I should choose another gown..."

Léofwyn cut her off with a laugh. "After all the work we've done to alter it for you?" Then she smiled, meeting her sister's eyes in the small mirror that hung on the wall over the dressing table. "It looks lovely on you, 'Wyn, as I knew it would when we found it in that old trunk."

Dropping her hand to her side, Théodwyn returned the smile gratefully. "Thank you, sister. It is the finest dress I have ever worn, even if such a wide neckline feels daring. Do you think that…" Her voice trailed off and she looked away, a blush staining her cheeks.

Léofwyn's smile grew as she gave a final tug on the laces before securing them and tucking the ends away. Stepping forward, she slipped an arm about her sister's waist and said simply. "I think that Mother would be delighted to see you wearing her dress." She gave a small squeeze, and her smile grew sly. "And I can think of another who will be delighted that you are wearing it as well, if he is not a fool."

Théodwyn's blush deepened even as she laughed. "Léofwyn!"

The older woman only laughed again, then reached for the final touch to Théodwyn's attire; a delicate circlet of braided gold strands, with flowers and blue gems worked into it.

As she stood before the mirror surveying the final result, Théodwyn's thoughts wandered. Tonight would be the first time she would serve as the lady of the hall, and she took the responsibility seriously. Léofwyn usually filled the role, being the elder sister, but her health had been quite poor through the winter, and well into the spring, and so Théodwyn had taken her place. As Léofwyn fussed with settling the circlet securely, Théodwyn once again ran through the list in her head of all that had to be done and seen to during the evening.

She wanted everything to be perfect, to show that she could play the part well. She wished to be the lady of her own hall one day, after all.

Unable to help herself, she reached up to adjust the dress once more. It had to be just right, just as the evening had to be exactly as she wished it to be.

She had seen Éomund earlier in the day, of course, when he had arrived with the recruits who wanted to join his éored, but only long enough to offer him the greeting cup; he had disappeared with Théoden as soon as he had handed the goblet back, with little more than a friendly smile for her. With a small sigh she smoothed the soft linen over one hip with her hand.

Perhaps if she could prove herself capable, and with this gown… Maybe tonight he would at last see her as the woman she had become rather than as the girl he had known.

There was a knock on the door, and Théodwyn started out of her thoughts and looked over quickly, making Léofwyn chuckle even as she crossed the room and opened the door.

Théoden had come to escort his sisters into the hall. After one more check of her necklace, one final adjustment to her dress, Théodwyn turned and went to join her siblings.

For a moment Théoden fell silent as he looked at her, but then he smiled fondly. "You are the very image of our mother tonight, Théodwyn."

Her hand started to move up towards her neckline once more before she made herself lower it back to her side as she returned the smile. "Thank you, brother. I hope that I may have a measure of her grace as well!"

Chuckling, Théoden shook his head as he offered his arm to a laughing Léofwyn. "I believe that your days of tripping over your own feet are long past you, little one."

With a laugh, Théodwyn swatted playfully at his free arm as she fell in behind them.

The siblings entered the great hall of Meduseld together, to loud cheers from the crowd. While Théoden and Léofwyn returned the greetings, Théodwyn immediately looked about the hall, to be sure that all was as it should be.

If she happened to see Éomund as she made her survey, it would just be a happy coincidence. Or so she told herself.

She didn't see that her sister saw her do it, or notice that Léofwyn was laughing quietly as Théoden led her to her seat.

Tables groaned under the weight of the food the kitchens had prepared, including a boar that had been roasted whole. Voices filled the air, and laughter, and the music coming from the small balcony overhead was lively and bright, just as she had requested.

Théodwyn spent the evening circulating through the crowd, speaking to each of her guests while discreetly seeing that they had everything they needed, and ensuring that there was no shortage of ale, mead or wine. All in attendance were in high spirits as they celebrated the end of the foaling season, and the arrival of the young men who hoped to become Riders of the Mark after three months of intensive training.

A few of her brother's counselors invited her to join the dancing with them, one adding she was too lovely that evening to spend all her time on her duties. She declined them gracefully with warm smiles and with sincere gratitude, knowing full well that they truly preferred to sit at a table with their friends and discuss politics, even during a celebration.

Many of the younger lords present watched her as she made her rounds, admiring her from afar, but none found enough courage to approach the king's sister to ask for her company.

She did dance one of the simpler dances with her nephew, Théodred, allowing the nine-year-old to show off the new skill he was working so hard to learn. As soon as the dance was over, though, he ran off to find his friends, leaving Théodwyn standing alone in the middle of the floor, laughing as she watched him go.

When she turned to walk away from the dance floor herself, she nearly collided with the slight man who had come up behind her without her notice. She blinked and looked up, then smiled politely even as she took an instinctive step back.

"Gríma!" She then immediately blushed, and gave a small, nervous laugh. "I mean, my lord. Please forgive me, I did not hear you..."

The counselor made a show of sketching a bow, which Théodwyn returned by rote with a graceful curtsy, as she had been taught by her mother long ago.

"There is no need to apologize, my lady. There are many people in the room, and the music is quite loud. It is little wonder that you did not hear me approach."

"I suppose it is a little loud, my lord. But do you not think the musicians skilled?"

He glanced up at the small balcony from which the music poured, and gave a shrug. "I am not an expert on such things, my lady, but I am sure that if you selected them and think them skilled then they must be."

Grima smiled at her, perfectly polite and proper, but Théodwyn felt a chill run down her spine. He had always had this effect on her, though there was no specific reason for it. She simply did not care for him, no matter how much he had helped Théoden after Elfhild's death, or how many of the other lords praised his insight.

"Thank you, my lord." She offered him another quickly curtsey, to give her a reason to look away from him as much as to be polite, and then turned to walk away, only to stop when she felt him touch her arm lightly.

"Might I be so bold as to invite you to dance, Princess?"

Théodwyn smiled again, automatically, her mind busy choosing how to best decline his invitation without giving offence. While she didn't care for him she could not deny that he had always been loyal to her brother, and served the Mark well as one of Théoden's counselors. She did not want to anger him, no matter how unwelcome she found his advances.

"Lord Gríma, you are most kind to ask me, but I am afraid I am tired after such an energetic dance with my nephew, and must find a drink before I could dance again."

He laughed, and again that chill ran down her back. "You are young, my lady. Surely you can last through one dance more, and then I would be delighted to fetch whatever refreshment you desire."

"I am flattered by your persistence, my lord, and grateful for your attention, but truly, I must decline."

Nothing in his expression changed, the polite smile he wore never faltered, but his eyes grew cold. "If I was not sure that it would not be possible for such a well-bred young lady I might think that you believe yourself to be too good for me."

She forced her smile to grow a little wider, and gave a small shake of her head. "No, my lord Gríma, I would never think such a thing! I know how well you serve the Mark, and how Théoden values your opinions and wisdom. I am simply in need of some wine to -"

Another voice cut in from behind her, "Here you are, Théodwyn."

"Oh!" With a breathless laugh she turned to offer a brilliant smile to Éomund as she accepted the goblet that he held out for her. "Oh, thank you, Éomund! I thought I might die of thirst after dancing with Théodred." She laughed, then quickly took a sip from the goblet even as she looked up at her rescuer over the rim.

He returned her smile easily, but she knew by the way the creases at the corners of his eyes deepened that he was struggling not to laugh. "You do still prefer the white wines to the red?"

She took another sip from the goblet, then nodded. "Oh yes, indeed. How kind of you to remember! The red always gives me a headache if I have more than a sip." She drank again, then grinned up at her rescuer. "And I would hate to miss out on any portion of the evening for anything so trivial as having drunk the wrong wine!"

Eomund laughed, and offered her a small bow. "I am pleased that I chose wisely for you, my lady. It would indeed be a shame for your guests to be deprived of your company sooner than necessary."

Gríma cut in once more. "Well, now that you have had something to refresh yourself, my lady, there is still time to join the next dance."

It was Éomund who answered even as she started to reply. "Aye, there is, but the lady had already promised this dance to me."

Théodwyn smiled apologetically to Gríma even as the men exchanged hard looks. "I was trying to tell you that I was not free to dance, my lord."

Éomund took the goblet back from her, giving her a quick wink as he did, then turned to hand it and his tankard to the other man with a smug smile. "You wouldn't mind taking these with you when you leave the floor, would you, Gríma?" Turning his attention back to the lady, he gave a small bow, and offered her his arm. "Shall we then, Théodwyn?"

The musicians were already playing the opening measures to a new dance as she curtseyed in reply, then tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. "I am quite refreshed now, thank you, Éomund. So yes, let us dance."

Gríma had no choice but to watch as they walked together towards the other couples gathering on the far side of the dance floor.

As they went, Théodwyn spoke quietly, trusting that the music would keep her words from carrying to any but Éomund. "Why must you antagonize him like that? He was only asking me to dance, and now…"

Éomund leaned over enough to speak low in her ear. "Do not mind him, Théodwyn. He was a power-mongering upstart when we were new recruits together, and he has not changed in the years since. You should not pay him any mind."

She could not help but laugh even as she tried to hush him. "Éomund! He is on the King's counsel, and has done nothing but good in support of the Mark and of Théoden. He is my brother's friend almost as much as you are! If someone heard you speak of him that way…"

He only laughed. "I have never made a secret of what I think of him, my lady, and I have no intention of starting now."

They had reached the other dancers now, so she gave a small shake of her head as they took their places. "You are incorrigible."

He laughed again, the sound carrying easily over the musicians and the crowd about them, and then winked at her as they took their starting positions. "Aye, I am."

The dance was not a fast one, but the footwork was intricate. Couples circled together, then split apart to circle with another partner for a few measures before returning to each other and moving to a new formation. She had danced it only once before, and that was with her brother.

With Éomund it was an entirely different experience.

She felt herself growing flushed as the dance progressed. Not from the heat of the room, or the exertion of the dancing, but simply from being so near him. While he had often kissed her hand in formal greeting when he arrived at Meduseld to visit with Théoden, or given her his arm if they walked together he had never touched her more intimately than that. The warmth of him at her side spread through her body and made her self-conscious. The subtle play of the muscles in his arm as he reached across her back made her breath catch, even as the weight of his hand at her waist soothed her and made her feel safe.

When they had joined the dancers she had been laughing, but her laughter quickly faded into a completely new awareness of him.

An expression built in his eyes that she had never seen before, and at first she could not meet them long. But she grew bolder as the dance progressed, and once her eyes met his fully she was lost. It both surprised and delighted her to find that there were flecks of green mixed with the grey she had dreamed of for so long.

As the dance continued she became so lost in the intensity of what was growing between them that she nearly stumbled when she had to leave him to dance with another partner.

She always smiled politely at her new partners, but she watched Éomund out of the corner of her eye even as he danced with another. When she caught him looking back at her she smiled across the formation, not caring who else might see.

Coming back to his arms felt like coming home.

When the dance ended they stood on the floor simply looking at each other for a few seconds, his arm still reaching across her back. Finally, as couples began to gather for the next dance, he dropped his arm to take her hand lightly in his and led her away from the crowded floor.

The doors to the terraces and gardens that surrounded Meduseld had been left open, so that the cooler air of the evening could enter the hall. He lead her through one of these and into a garden filled with trees, trellised roses and benches without saying a word, and her heart began to beat more quickly as they walked.

At last he stopped in an area of the garden that was well away from the doors to the hall but which was still public enough that there would be no true scandal if they were seen together. Keeping her hand in his, he turned to her, and for a moment just looked at her in the light of the moon.

Then he lifted his free hand and gently, slowly, eased a lock of her hair back behind her shoulder. He then slowly ran it down her arm, from her shoulder to her elbow, drawing her closer while giving her plenty of opportunity to pull away or to stop him.

She did neither, but followed the urging of his hand and stepped closer. Her breathing grew shallow, and her pulse thundered in her ears when he released her hand and brushed his thumb lightly across her cheek.

When he lowered his head her eyes drifted closed, and her lips parted in anticipation.

The kiss was light and gentle, just as she had always imagined their first kiss would be. His lips were warm and soft, though she had not expected the slight roughness of his beard against her skin. A warmth flooded through her veins that she had never felt before, and pressing herself against him, she lifted her hands to his back, holding onto him for support as her knees grew weak.

When he lifted his head she gave a small sigh. It was a moment before she smiled slowly and opened her eyes to look up at him, her expression full of wonder.

His expression was unreadable.

Her bright smile dimmed a little. "Éomund?"

His voice was low, and seemed a little hoarse when he finally spoke.

"I should not have done that." He dropped his hands, slowly, and took a small step back.

She forced her legs to hold her upright as he moved away from her, blinking in confusion as she lowered her hands to her sides. There was a long moment of silence before she asked quietly, "Why do you say that?"

"Because it is true. You deserve more than to be treated so…" He paused, as if searching for the word he wanted. "Indifferently."

She gave a small laugh, and glanced up at him for a moment. "I would hardly say that you have been indifferent to me."

With a wry half smile he nodded to concede her the point. "Aye, I have not been tonight. How could any man be indifferent to such loveliness?" With a soft laugh he added, "And you know well that I am not known for my self-restraint."

Her answering grin was tempered with fondness, but he grew sober once more when she looked up to meet his eyes once more. "But nothing can come of this. You must know that."

She blinked again, "Why ever not?"

"You are so young, 'Wyn." She smiled slightly at his use of her old nickname. He returned it with another half smile, this one tinged with bitterness. "Far too young to be saddled with me."

With another light laugh she took a small step towards him again. "You speak as if you were old, Éomund!"

"I am old. Too old for you, at least."

"You most certainly are not too old for me." She laughed. "My father was seventeen years older than my mother, and all say they were very happy together. If such a difference was not an obstacle for them why should thirteen years be one for us?"

Shaking his head he took another step back from her. "You are also the sister of my sword-brother. His younger sister. I cannot... I should not have these types of thoughts about you. It is… indecent."

She frowned a little. "I would think that Théoden would be happy to know that his sister has chosen a man that he knows and likes. A man that he trusts."

His brows lifted slightly. "Has… chosen? Théodwyn…" Raising one hand slightly he shook his head. "Do not make this more than it was. It was just a kiss… A… A passing moment. Brought on by the drink and the moonlight..." He let the sentence trail off into silence as she stared at him, eyes wide with hurt and confusion.

Then her back straightened as she gathered her tattered pride about her. Her shoulders squared and her chin lifted, but her voice remained soft. "Is that what you think of me? That I am the sort of woman who would let a man lead her into a moonlit garden, step into his arms… kiss him… all on nothing more than a.. a whim?"

"No! Of course I do not think that of you." He looked horrified at the suggestion. "I think of you as a friend. As… a sister. I…" He stopped himself with a sigh of frustration, and ran his hands through his hair before looking at her once more. "This is my fault entirely. I took advantage of your trust in me..."

"I kissed you because I love you."

Silence fell again as they looked at one another, broken only by the lively but distant music pouring from the hall. At last Éomund spoke, his voice pitched low. "Théodwyn..." He stopped, closing his eyes for a brief moment before speaking again. "My lady... You may think that now, but in time… You are young, and will think yourself in love many times before it actually happens..."

Now anger flashed in her eyes, visible even in the pale light of the moon. It made him step back when she advanced on him. "Do not presume to talk to me as if I am a child simply because I am younger than you, Éomund of Aldburg! You do not know what I feel, or what is in my heart!" She gave a short but bitter laugh. "I have loved you for nearly half my life, since I was thirteen and saw you dressed in your finest at Théoden's wedding." Her voice softened as she continued. "I have not looked at another man but you since that day. I have not thought of another man as I do of you. I have dreamed of no man other than you..."

Her anger and her voice failed her at last, and her eyes dropped to the ground before her. When she continued it was little more than a whisper. "I have kissed no other man because I wished for you to be the first and… only... man I ever..."

Lifting her eyes once more she dared to look at him, but when he only looked at her in amazement, saying nothing, she turned away, hiding her face in her hands for a long moment.

Still he said nothing,

Finally she dropped her hands and exclaimed bitterly into the dark. "Oh, I have been a fool!"

She dropped one hand to lift her skirts, and walked away from him at a pace that was little short of running. Though her other hand was pressed to her mouth, a sob escaped her as she fled.

She did not hear him call her name, She never saw the hand that reached out to try to catch her arm before she left, or the anguish on his face as he watched her flee from him and disappear through one of the smaller doors into the hall.

And she did not know that he stood looking after her for many long moments before at last turning to walk slowly away into the deeper shadows further in the garden.

* * *

Many thanks to the ladies of the Garden for their feedback and support, and to megSUPERFAN for beta reading and offering suggestions!


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